


A Bloody Mess

by HeadlessLennon



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Blood, Bugs, Death, Decay, Hanging, I am probably going to get backlash for this, John Lennon - Freeform, Maggots, Mention of birds, Necrophilia, No Plot, POV Death, Short, The Beatles - Freeform, Vomit, Vomiting, barbed wire, dead John Lennon, decomposing, does this count as necro??, hanging with barbed wire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadlessLennon/pseuds/HeadlessLennon
Summary: John had an idea. It wasn’t a great one but it was something he was prepared to go through with. It wouldn’t be a pleasant death for sure, but he wanted to hang by barbed wire.
Kudos: 22





	A Bloody Mess

**Author's Note:**

> TW: legit all the tags
> 
> aLSO this is posted a little too close to John’s birthday I am so sorry about that I would’ve just forgotten to post if I didn’t post it now

* * *

John had been standing on the edge of the platform for quite some time. His mind was going a million thoughts per second. He was going to die. Of course this wasn’t a shock to him. It was going to happen at some point, and frankly it’s better that it’s at his own hands. It’s not a surprise. He could get down if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

The trees around him were a nice last sight. It was far from anyone, so the only way someone could see them is if they were a hiker of sorts.

It had always been a fantasy of his to hang with barbed wire. He doubled up the material so it for sure wouldn’t break on him. John wanted the spikes to dig into his neck and make him bleed as he slowly choked out. He was getting aroused just thinking about it, especially at the shame of being later found dead from such a death. An erection pressed firmly along the front of his pants, John didn’t bother hiding it.

His feet teetered at the edge. He could jump right now and that would be it. John could die in bliss. The sharp metal digging into his neck hurt, but that’s what he wanted. 

And without a second thought he jumped off the edge.

John’s body for a second was unrestrained in the air, but quickly the wire became taught and caught up with him. 

The spikes instantly dug into his neck as his throat was caught on them, and were dragged upwards through his skin. An array of 2 inch long jagged cuts now decorated John’s throat. Blood ran down his neck and seeped into the collar of his shirt. A pained sound came from the man and his hands instinctively rushed to the wounds. One hand grabbed at the wire but let go in an instant. The tips of the fingers on his left hand were cut. The sharp pains from the wire were worse than when they were not the only things supporting him, but now the centimeter long needles dug deeper into him than ever before. 

John couldn’t say anything, any movement from his throat made the wire dig further into him. He was holding back sounds of pure pain. He loved this, but it was painful as ever. 

The pounding feeling in his heart was replaced with a heavy pounding in his head. His face felt full of pressure, pressure from what he had no idea but it was throbbing.

He thrashed his body a little, trying to evening out with the swinging and make it slow down.  _ “I shouldn’t have jumped from that harsh a angle Jesus fucking Christ”  _ John thought to himself.

The back and forth motion was making him extremely nauseous, and John tried to focus on other things (like the pain in his neck). A small amount of vomit rose up, and John had to decide between swallowing it or spitting it out. It tasted awful, even briefly distracting John from everything. He hadn’t eaten anything today, so it was pure liquid. 

Some of the vomit had trailed under his chin and made its way onto the cuts in his neck. John sharply breathed in at the feeling. It burned. There was no other way to put it. It burned and seeped into his open wounds.

John stopped moving hisself. His thrashing had only made the swinging worse. There was so much going on. Too much going on. There was burning in his neck from the wire digging in, his head was pounding and felt like it was going to explode, his neck ached from carrying all his weight, and now his eyes felt like they were going to pop out from all the stress.

Of course they wouldn’t. But god it didn’t feel like that in the moment.

Black began to cloud the corners of John’s vision. His vision was already becoming hazy, this just worsened it. It went in waves along with his heartbeat, each time closing in more and more.

John blinked and tried focusing on anything. His thoughts were becoming fuzzy yet frantic. He wanted to get down, this was too overwhelming. But of course he couldn’t. He couldn’t get down. He can’t grab the wire and pull himself up, nor could he get to the platform he built.

His feet were two or three feet from the ground. John was so close yet he couldn’t bring them far down enough to relieve at least some of the pressure that was on his neck. He tried to relax his body to touch his feet against the ground, thinking it was far closer than it actually was.

He tilted his head back, desperately trying to find a way for some blood to enter his head. 

A shaky hand was brought up to the wire. John tried to slip it under and take some pressure off a single artery, but ultimately failed when he couldn’t even get his pinky finger under. He really was going to die.

Tears started to pore down John’s face at this realization, god he hated crying but it’s all he could do in this situation. He was going to die here, all because he had a stupid fantasy that he just had to make true. Sometimes things are better as thoughts.

His hazy vision finally took hold of him. John’s eyes were open but he could barely see a thing. He could feel himself slip in and out of consciousness and he knew that once he passed out, he would never wake up.

And just like that he fell unconscious. Hanging there with a blood soaked neck. It took him longer to die than it did to pass out, but it did happen.

No one came across his body for a long time. When John was finally found the bugs and birds had already had their share. The vomit had brung the flies, and when the flies laid their eggs and the eggs hatched came maggots. They ate away at his neck and slowly went into the face. By the time people found him, he was unrecognizable. The only reason they knew it was John was because he had gone missing weeks earlier.

John was right, sometimes things  _ are  _ better as thoughts.


End file.
